


Unexpected

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pregnancy, Season/Series 08 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wonders if it has all been worth it, then Sam’s cell rings. Will whoever is on the other end give them something to live for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Unexpected Pregnancy square on my hc_bingo card

Dean wonders if it has all been worth it. He stares down at Sam, hot and delirious, tossing on the bed and thinks that, maybe, he should have let him finish the trials, if he is going to die anyway.

Three days and it isn’t getting any better; Dean is in the kitchen wrapping ice in an old t-shirt when Sam’s cell trills into life. Dean swallows and glances at the text.

Please come and meet me it begs. Don has thrown me out and I need you to know. . . . It tails off with the directions to a bar that is miles and miles away from here and Dean stares at it for a long time before he makes his decision.

Kevin is trustworthy enough to make sure that Sam stays cool, that Sam stays hydrated, trustworthy enough to make sure Sam doesn’t die. Dean leaves list after list of instructions, throat aching as he goes through them again, Kevin’s expression both patient and pitying.

He drives without stopping and gets to the bar around 9pm. It is quiet and small town and he steps inside with some trepidation. The barman smiles at him and he orders a beer. He looks around and his mouth goes dry when he sees the dark haired woman sitting in the booth. Her face is pale and her eyes are luminous in her translucent skin. She glances up and stares at him with no recognition but he knows her and he can see quite clearly why she needed to see Sam so badly.

Dean finally goes over and she half stands; her hands up in front of her in a pathetic gesture of protection. Her swollen stomach bulges through her thin summer dress and her nails are bitten down to the quick. Dean smiles and he hold out his own hand hoping she might one day trust him.

“Amelia?” He asks, even though he knows.

“Who are you?” She goes, impossibly, paler.

“I’m Dean.” He smiles again. “Sam’s brother.”

“Sam’s brother is dead,” her voice wavers and there is disbelief in her eyes.

“Guess not.” He tries to be gentle, aware that this is the second person who has come back from the dead to put a spanner in the works.

“Sam?” She asks and he licks his dry lips.

“He needs you.” Dean ignores the obvious but he sees her put her hands over her bulge, her eyes filling with tears.

“Take me to him,” is all she says.

****

Sam doesn’t respond but then Dean didn’t expect him to.

He is still gripped in the fever that has held him since Dean aborted the last trial, tossing and screaming out random Latin, mumbling Crowley’s name and asking God to forgive him.

Dean wants to scream himself but he bites his tongue and bends over his brother, almost recoiling at the heat rolling off him.

“Sam.” He wonders why he even started this. “Amelia is here.”

It doesn’t make any difference; Dean would be fooling himself if he thought it would have but he had to try. Amelia stares at Sam with horror and Dean is certainly convinced that his brother never told her what they did for a living.

“He’s sick,” Dean says in way of explanation.

****

Amelia stays.

Dean often questions the wisdom of it. There are no doctors nearby and he has no idea how far along Amelia is. Sam doesn’t improve but he doesn’t get worse and Dean often finds Amelia by his bed, reading to him slow and steady, books that he knows Sam likes, magazines and even comics.

Amelia doesn’t question the occasional presence of Garth, with his loud voice or his Mr Fizzles, sock puppet who talks to Sam all the time. Not that the fucking thing can be of any assistance, but still.

Kevin loiters around the bunker, practices Kung Fu in the library, watches old films on the projector Dean found. Amelia sometimes watches them with him, wiping her eyes at some stupid sad ending, her hand resting on her huge belly, his niece or nephew growing there.

****

Amelia goes into labor on a Sunday; Kevin panics and wants to go for a doctor, Dean just panics. Amelia refuses to see anyone medical and, in the end, Garth delivers the baby.

It’s a boy and there is no doubt who he belongs too, he is big and loud, his cries echoing around the bunker. A man of letters and another Winchester for monsters to torture.

Amelia takes the baby into Sam’s room and sits by his brother’s bed with the wailing child in a blanket. Dean prays that Sam hears those cries, that Sam will finally open his eyes and see clearly.

His brother is too pale, too thin, his skin like parchment over his bones. Dean feels his throat close as he wipes a wet cloth across Sam’s face, sees the wetness on his brother’s cheeks and blames it on too much water.

“You have to wake up Sammy,” he begs. “You have to get better. He needs you. Fuck! I need you. Please Sammy, please.”

When he wakes up one morning and Amelia is gone he can’t say he is too surprised. Kevin holds the baby, awkwardly, in his arms and looks at Dean in silent supplication. There is no note and Dean doesn’t know why Amelia has gone or where she has gone. All he knows is that Sam is still sick, Crowley is still loose somewhere and angels are out there.

And now he has a baby to raise.

****

Sam opens his eyes and looks straight at Dean.

It’s the weekend, Dean’s thinks, but he is so bone tired every day seems the same as the last, long dragging hours, the baby crying, Sam delirious, the world going to hell one bit at a time.

“I heard a baby crying,” Sam’s first lucid statement for months and Dean wants to break open a six pack and drink himself dizzy.

“Yeah.” Dean’s smile is ragged but genuine. “Do you wanna see him?”

 

Sam looks at him, eyes clear and unwavering.

“Did I dream it?” he says, Adam’s apple rising and falling. “Amelia?”

“No.” Dean’s tears are so close to the surface it is almost embarrassing. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Sam smiles then.

“Can I see my baby?” he asks and Dean knows, knows right there that, despite everything, it is going to be alright.

End


End file.
